Mourning Songbirds
by Super Ninja Cupcakes
Summary: This is a story of what if. What if two of the four band members died in some sort of tragic accident? how would the other two manage? How would they get on? Contains: character death, strong language, later sexual themes, references to narcotics abuse, and references to alcohol and tobacco use. So, in keeping with classic themes: Don't like? Don't read.
1. Chapter 1

Everything is cold, everything is still, everything is quiet. The only noise in the house comes from the whir of a ceiling fan, and the hum of the refrigerator. It isn't a peaceful silence by any means.

Mournful, more like.

It's been three days, and the reporters still haven't stopped coming by. They should be by soon, thinks a restless 2D. Like clockwork, they arrive at 7:30 and don't go away until late at night- or until Murdoc turns them away. The two remaining residents of the shared household aren't in any sort of mood to speak with them, not this early after what happened Saturday.

It had been a lovely day, Saturday. At least, that's what it had seemed. Murdoc Niccals had been running his radio show, Stuart '2D' Pot playing a videogame, when the phone rang.

The blue-haired frontman was the one to answer the screeching landline, being that Murdoc was busy. A woman's voice said, "Hello, is this Murdoc Niccals?" she asked with a heaviness in her tone.

"'Fraid not ma'am," 2D answered back, glancing down the hall in the direction of Murdoc's room. "He's busy right now, this is Stuart Pot. Can I take a message?" 2D assumed this was one of Murdoc's old girlfriends. He's had a lot of those, boyfriends too, and they sometimes call the house phone trying to get back in touch with the salty satanist.

"Mr. Pot, it says on my computer here that you live with Mr. Niccals, Russel Hobbs, and a… er, Noodle? Is that correct sir?"

"Yeah, that's right…" 2D says slowly, leaning against the wall that the phone was mounted on. "What's this about?"

"Sir, there's.." the woman sighed a bit, "There's been an accident. Involving Mr. Hobbs and this Noodle."

Murdoc had just put on a track, "Dare" for the listeners, when 2D walked in without knocking. His faces was white as ash, his eyes wide, and his hands shaking.

"Oh, what is it, Dents? I said I couldn't play with you right now-" Murdoc cut himself off at the sight of the other man. Sweet Lucifer he looks pale… "What's the matter? Well, spit it out." the bassist began to worry for his frontman's health. 2D does get migraines, he thought, and when he does they'll make him ill.

"N-Noodle, an-and and Russel they- They're-" 2D couldn't even get the words out of his mouth before dropping to his knees.

Murdoc's eyes widened. He got up from his chair and got to 2D just in time for the tosser to pass out. "Bloody hell…"

Yes, neither of them had expected it. No one had, really. Where the news of Noodle and Russel's deaths sent the public into a frenzy, it sent the two musicians into hiding. Neither man has been out of the house in two days, save for Murdoc stepping out onto the porch to pick up takeaway or shoo away someone from the media. 2D in fact, despite being able to sleep, hasn't hardly left his own room in that time.

The doorbell rings just on time, and the frontman leaves it to Murdoc or no one to answer, as usual.

Murdoc has been up for hours, cleaning, doing laundry, doing what washing up there was left to do. He does this when something troubles him, he puts everything back in its place. Being that the bassist has been trouble free for a while up until now, the house was in dire need of a troubled Muds.

The old goth opens the front door with a sigh, looking sternly at the three men with cameras and notepads wanting to speak with him. "We're not taking questions yet." he says, and before any of them can protest, Murdoc shuts the door firmly in their faces.

2D hears the door slam shut once again, and upon hearing it, is reminded by the pounding it causes behind his eyes to take his medicine. The lanky musician has to take it thrice per day to try and prevent migraines- although it doesn't always do its job. He gets up out of bed and opens his adjacent door, just to be reminded of how bright the light flooding in through the windows is in the morning. 2D shields his eyes for a moment before opening them slightly, so to adjust, as he pads quietly down the hall. On his way, the blue-haired man notices how much the house has changed. Before now, all he's done is stumble to the bathroom and back for his pills, or to the kitchen and back for cold takeaway- but those had been in the dark. Now, in the light of day, 2D can see how much cleaner and well put-together the house looks. Garbage all taken out, junk all moved somewhere or another. 2D knows what this means. Murdoc is suffering just as badly.

The old goth himself sits at the kitchen table, waiting for the kettle to boil and having a fag. Murdoc notices 2D, but more the rings under his eyes than anything.

"Mornin' faceache." he says with not a hint of malice in his voice. It's more casual than that, along with a twinge of sadness.

2D makes his way over to the table and sits down. "Morning…" he says quietly. A short while goes by of the two not talking, not looking one another in the eye, before 2D sighs and asks, "Can I bum a cig?"

Murdoc grabs his cigarette carton off of the table and the lighter out of his pocket, handing them both to his melancholy frontman. 2D gladly accepts them, and in no time at all the two are filling the air with a lazily hanging veil of menthol smoke. Smoking, 2D thinks, is a lot better than just sitting there not talking.

Once 2D has puffed away the last of his cigarette, he gets up to take his medicine- which, thanks to Murdoc and his cleaning, has been lain out on the counter for the lanky frontman. After taking twice his normal dose, 2D tries to think of a thing to say. After all, what can he say? The two have barely spoken a word since leaving the morgue. Aside from "take your pill, dents" or "chinese tonight", all 2D has gotten out of Murdoc is "Mornin' faceache."

Thankfully, Murdoc speaks up before 2D has the chance to leave in a cloud of smoke and awkwardness. "Russel's mum 'll be by tomorrow." he says, "Gloria, that's her name."

2D does little more than nod, wrapping his arms around himself. Shit, it's cold in here.

"She's gonna go through his room, take a few of his things, and leave the rest for us to do what we want with it." Murdoc stubs out his cigarette in the overfilled ashtray before getting up, "I'll be off then."

"Where're you goin'?" 2D asks, his tone abandoning most of its sadness in favor of curiosity.

Murdoc, pulling on the faded leather jacket that hung on the back of his chair, rolls his eyes. "We haven't got any food, ditz…" he answers. "I'm going to the grocery."

2D rings his hands a moment before asking, "Shall I come with?"

The bassist stares at his sleep-deprived frontman for a moment, "Why?" he asks.

The blue-haired man shrugs, "Dunno… I just," he sighs, "I don't wanna stay here alone. It's empty in here."

Murdoc can't say that it doesn't stab him somewhere where his heart should be to hear that. 2D hit the nail on the head with that one. It's been very empty in the house the past couple of days- the old satanist can't bear to think how it'd be to stay here by oneself.

"Fine." Murdoc answers finally, putting on a mask of dull irritation. "You're not goin' out like that, though." the old goth looks the other man up and down; he's in his sweats and his hair's a mess, not to mention how allaround depressingly worn-out he looks.

2D looks down at his own appearance, noticing the same things as Murdoc did. He hasn't taken a bath in heaven only knows how long. The toothless musician figures he'd better get on that, lest he make Murdoc impatient.

 **Author's note:** Well there's chapter one and it's already depressing as all hell. I may or may not continue, this is just a really persistent plot bunny running about in my head.


	2. Chapter 2

After a brief wash, some concealer, and a touch of hairspray, 2D looks a little more like himself. He surely doesn't have on his normally perpetual smile anymore, nor is he dressed as abnormally as usual. However, he looks much better than before- and evidently, to Murdoc's standard.

The salty satanist has been awaiting his chum in the same place 2D left him, but now sipping a lukewarm coffee and Bailey's. The shorter musician wears a look half of thought and half of impatience. He can't take his mind off of Russel's poor mum, and that bloke of Noodle's, who are coming to collect their things. He won't know what to say when they do arrive, or how exactly to go about consoling them. After all Gloria, Beelzebub bless her, is distraught beyond belief. The ways others have of grieving certainly puzzle the old goth.

When he sees 2D saunter back into the room, dressed down quite a bit but still looking decent, Murdoc sets his mug down and starts off toward the front door. 2D follows without a word, not even as he nearly trips over the memorial flowers, dollar-store teddy bears, and other tokens of thought from fans and neighbors.

Murdoc has been nicer to the folks who come by with condolences than those who come by looking to get in on the story- though not by much. Murdoc Niccals hates a lot of things, but getting sympathy is up there on the list.

The bassist heads for his car, the old and admittedly still a little beaten up Stylo. Murdoc had it fixed up a tad, the windows replaced and the bullet holes patched, but the interior still looks like it's been to hell and back. Avoiding making the obvious joke about being to hell as best he can, Murdoc takes his keys from his coat pocket and begins to open the driver's side door.

Being that the streets are nearly empty, and it's a cold, early morning, a little blonde girl in baby pink rainboots is the last thing either man expects to become attached to Murdoc's leg.

"What the-" The older musician jumps, almost slipping, as the tiny child clings to his calf. All that saves Murdoc from busting his arse is grabbing the roof of his car. "What the hell…?" Murdoc mutters as he looks down to see who's just assaulted his leg.

What he sees is a doe-eyed little girl, can't be older than five, dressed to the nines in pink and pigtails. "Hello." she says with a voice like feathers.

2D can't help but smile just a bit. Murdoc is funny when he's uncomfortable, and this child is simply adorable.

Murdoc blinks, looking exactly how he feels: surprised and conflicted. He doesn't want to tell off a little girl- even he isn't such a bastard -but where the _fuck_ are her parents? "...Hello there." he says uneasily, trying his hand at shaking the child off. To no avail.

It isn't long before a young lady, presumably the child's older sister, comes trotting across the street. She resembles the girl hugging Murdoc's leg very much. Same blonde hair, same glinting blue eyes. Though she can't be more than eighteen or nineteen. She calls out, "Elizabeth! Lizzie!"

The little girl, Lizzie, looks away from Murdoc just long enough to see who is calling her. This obviously doesn't vex Lizzie, though, as she looks right back up at the two men and continues, "Are you the Gorillaz?" she asks, her high-pitched little voice hardly audible.

2D answers with a nod, just as the young woman arrives on the scene. Her face is quite red, and she's very out of breath.

"Elizabeth! Let the poor man go!" She says exasperatedly. It's only then that Lizzie thinks it best to detach herself from the bassist's calf. "I'm terribly sorry…" Says the woman. "We were here to offer our condolences. She and I love your music, and we were just so sad to hear about-"

Murdoc cuts the young lady off, "It's quite alright, thanks for your concerns madame." he says before ducking into the Stylo.

Murdoc keeps his eyes forward, even as 2D spends ten bloody minutes speaking with Lizzie and her older counterpart. He hasn't the slightest of ideas what to say to them, nor is he really in any shape to interact with anyone yet. That's partly why, when 2D gets into the car himself, he's so cross.

"What was that then?" 2D asks as he shuts the door.

"What was what?" Murdoc asks rhetorically as he starts the vehicle.

"That little girl and her mum were just tryna be nice. They wrote us a letter." 2D answers, holding up the envelope as if to prove his point. "Lotsa people have been by, why didn't you tell me?"

Murdoc, as he pulls out of the spot on the curb, answers simply with, "Her mum?"

"Yeah," the blue-haired man says back, "Her name's Olivia and her daughter's four years old. Grew up on our music, the both of 'em." He looks over the envelope, wondering what it is they could've written. He wonders what anyone could write to someone they don't know about someone else they don't know passing away. "She's always wanted to meet us, her and Lizzie."

"Got all that from one conversation did ya?" Murdoc rolls his eyes.

2D stares at the old goth for a good while before asking, "Why're you bein' this way?"

"I'm always this way, dents."

The toothless musician sighs, "Well, the least you could do is hear someone out… If it's the papers or somefink, that's rude and they should sod off, but that was a little girl, Muds-"

"I don't want to talk about it yet, alright? Now shut your mouth." Murdoc snaps. This is the most 2D has spoken since the accident, and it's already less than pleasant. As far as he's concerned, other people's pity over the loss isn't much good. None of them knew Noodle or Russel, none of them sat for hours recording or watching crap telly with them, none of _them_ had to identify a body.

The hollow-eyed songbird hangs his head, looking like a scolded dog as usual. It isn't as if _he_ wants to talk about it just yet either, in fact he still feels rightly like shit. The thought of so many others grieving with the two, though, it offers a small bit of comfort.

Once a bit of silence has gone by, Murdoc asks, "So, what all did she say, anyhow?"

2D shrugs slackly, "Just introduced me to Lizzie, told me she was sorry for what happened, talked about how much she loved the band…" the younger man smiles just a tiny bit before it fades, "Before they left the little girl, that's Lizzie, she sang some of 12D3. Other than that, we didn't talk too much."

"Mm.." Murdoc hums, thinking that over.

"Lovely folk, them…" 2D murmurs as he leans back in his seat. He wonders what other people have been by, and if Murdoc treated them the same. He starts to think if maybe a few of the times the door was slammed, it was slammed in the face of some fan or another.

"Funerals are next week." Murdoc mentions out of the blue. "Noodle's will be back in Japan someplace- her family wouldn't say where. Russel's will be a private affair in New Jersey. We'll have to do interviews or something by then." he observes.

"Who's all been by?" 2D asks quietly as the car slows for a stoplight.

"Oh, some blokes from the London Times, Global inquirer, a few independent bloggers. Nosey buggers, them." The older musician rattles off, tapping on the steering wheel lazily.

"They'll want us to go on telly then, won't they?" 2D guesses. He's done interviews before, but before now it's all been trivial things like where their favorite places to visit were or how they came up with some line or another in a song. Now it'll be harder questions.

Murdoc sighs slightly through his nose, "We'll cross that bridge when it comes to us."


	3. Chapter 3

Shortly after arriving home, and putting away all of the food, Murdoc begins busying himself with the task of cooking what little he knows how to cook. Instant rice, frozen chicken nuggets, and canned green beans.

2D, meanwhile, stays out of the way as he was told to do from the minute his bassist began preparing dinner. He wants to help, but being as clumsy as he is- and as high, thanks to the double-dose of medicine earlier this morning -that may not be the best of ideas. The lanky musician sits at the table, puffing a cig, and watches silently as Murdoc shuffles around the kitchen busily.

The old goth does anything he can to avoid talking or interacting, going so far as to do the washing up himself instead of using the dishwasher.

"Food's done." Murdoc says once all is finished as he starts off towards his office.

2D looks at Murdoc, puzzled. "Where're you goin'?"

"I'm tired." The bassist replies, not slowing down.

"But you haven't even eaten yet." the toothless frontman protests uselessly.

2D is answered only with the sound of a door shutting.

Hours later, once the food is eaten and the rest of the washing up done, 2D sits alone in the living room, watching the news. The story of Noodle and Russel's deaths is still a hot topic among the media. The news anchor with the green eyes and pearl earrings is covering it tonight, ending with, "The other two band members, bassist Murdoc Niccals and frontman Stuart Pot, have not yet been reached for questioning."

Hearing the floorboards creek under who can only be Murdoc awoken from his sleep, 2D clicks the television off. The toothless musician doesn't really want to watch it anyhow, but Murdoc might be a bit more vocal in his distress over the publicity.

Murdoc himself shuffles into the room, hardly awake at all, and practically flops onto the sofa next to 2D. The salty satanist clears his throat a bit before asking, "What bloody time is it?"

2D glances at the watch on his wrist before answering with, "A little past six o'clock. Have you been asleep all this time?"

"In and out." Murdoc fibs. The old goth has actually been knocked out, dead asleep for the past six hours, and feels as though he could do it over again. He looks up at the black television screen, then back down at 2D, who is still holding the remote control. "What're you watching?"

Not at all prepared to lie, 2D shrugs his shoulders lightly before answering with, "News…"

"Oh yeah?" Murdoc says, grabbing the remote control from 2D, which draws an ever-jumpy flinch from the frontman. "What's on News tonight then?" the bassist asks. Murdoc knows the media must still be abuzz with the news of the Gorillaz casualties, however it wouldn't hurt his feelings. What would is someone slandering or making humor of it, like that republican bastard with the three grey hairs on his head and the small mouth.

Murdoc flicks the TV back on, seeing some coverage of a car crash somewhere in the city.

"They just finished talkin' about Russ and Noodle." 2D answers nervously, wringing his hands. "Weather will be on in a minute…"

"We know what the bloody weather is, it's rain." Murdoc rolls his eyes. Several long moments of silence go by, 2D being too afraid to say something. However, Murdoc breaks it with, "You should try and sleep tonight instead of staying up on buggering Tumblr, we've got to talk to Russel's mum and some others tomorrow."

"How'd you know I was on Tumblr?" 2D asks, legitimately confused. He hasn't actually posted anything recently, nor has he checked his ask box. Despite the 100,000+ messages he's received in the last week. He can guess what they all say.

Murdoc smirks, the first smile he's managed in days, "I didn't, until now."

2:30am, and 2D hasn't yet managed to fall asleep, whereas his bassist has been comatose for four and a half straight hours.

The young musician sits alone in his bedroom, slightly intoxicated due to the use of his medication after a serious headache, and playing his melodica quietly. The nights, he finds, are the worst. He can't sleep, he can't go out and take his mind off of things for the endless slew of paparazzi, and that just leaves him be with his own thoughts. 2D is tired, exhausted, but can't quite shut his mind off. The young pianist can't quit thinking of how well things were just starting to go, how young the two of them were, how it could've been him instead. He wonders about the afterlife, he wonders about the future, he wonders about their families. He wonders about Murdoc.

2D plays a long, slow, soft melody as he thinks. Soon enough, the toothless musician decides he can't just sit here and play sad songs on the melodica all night. He needs to fall asleep somehow, which leads him to shuffling around the halls like a phantom. He notices the police tape that's been put up on Noodle and Russel's doors- no doubt by Murdoc -and afterwards eschews them deliberately. Eventually, he reaches Murdoc's office, wherein he's been sleeping rather than his bedroom for awhile.

Perhaps Murdoc could help? He seems to not have a lot of trouble falling asleep. Although he might be asleep now, it is late after all… 2D grapples with the idea of waking him for nearly ten minutes, weighing the pros and cons.

After building up the courage to do so, 2D raps on the door lightly.

Not even a minute later, a scruffy-haired Murdoc opens the door, wearing a large burgundy sweater and pajama bottoms. He doesn't look pleased at all, nor does he sound like it as he says, "Oi, what the bloody hell are you doin'? It's three o'clock in the damn morning, faceache."

2D twiddles his thumbs, shrugs, and looks down at his feet. "I couldn't fall asleep…"

Murdoc connects his palm with his forehead before sighing and answering 2D agitatedly. "Fucking… I'll make some tea." the bassist thoughtlessly takes off his shirt and shoves it at the blue-haired songbird. "And put this on, I don't need you catchin' a cold this week. Lie down over there." Murdoc gestures vaguely to the twin bed on the opposite side of his desk.

Before 2D can protest that he doesn't need a shirt to sleep in, Murdoc has already shoved his way past him and is headed towards the kitchen.

2D does as he's told, having neither the mental faculty nor the energy to do otherwise. Lying on Murdoc's freshly-washed, cologne-smelling sheets, much warmer due to the size of the room and the placement of a heating vent, the young pianist finds himself a bit more relaxed. The office smells of scotch and menthol, rather than garlic salt and gym clothes like his own, and the bed is easier to settle into. 2D quickly finds himself drifting off, thinking of the fleece insides of the sweater he is wearing instead of the fallacy of an afterlife.

Fifteen minutes later, chamomile in hand, Murdoc arrives to find his frontman curled up and fast asleep.


End file.
